Masquerade at the Rose
by Caralina Winterheart
Summary: Hawke hasn't been the same since the Deep Roads, and Isabela and Varric decides to arrange for a little something to cheer her up, as well as getting Fenris in on it
1. Chapter 1

**Masquerade at the Blooming Rose:**

Her eyes were glittering. He was so close. So warm. And so there. Never in her wildest dreams had she hoped that the night would end up like this, especially after what Isabela and Varric had done.

But there she was. With him.

–

Sitting by her desk, Hawke rifled through the letters that had arrived that day. It was all seemingly non-important, but one envelope caught her eye. The paper was a deep crimson, with gold scrolling around the edges, a seal formed like a rose in scented, red wax in the middle. Gently opening and unfolding the letter, Hawke's eyes widened as she proceeded to read the message within.

"_Mistress Caralina Hawke,_

_You have hereby been invited to the Masquerade Ball at the Blooming Rose the coming Saturday. You may bring up to three companions shall you so desire. I look forward to seeing you again Mistress Hawke, may you remember me as fondly as I remember you._

_~ Jethann"_

Groaning, Hawke put her face in her palm. Jethann. Had she know that her spontaneous decision to have a little fun with the elven prostitute at the Rose before going into the Deep Roads would have led to this, she probably wouldn't have done it. As she turned to throw the invitation in the fire, a gloved hand snatched it away from her. "Well well, now what is this?" purred Isabela. Hawke spun around, startled. "Wha...what are you doing in here? How did you get in?" The tanned pirate laughed softly and hung her arms around Hawke's neck, wriggling close. "You really should get better locks on your windows lovely one, they're all too easy to open." Licking Hawke's ear before moving away, the pirate seemed lost in thought for a moment. "So, are you going?"

Shrugging, Hawke moved the rest of the letters into a neat pile, sat back down, and pulled out a fresh sheaf of parchment. "I don't think so. At least, I see no reason to. I haven't been to the Rose for ages, and my little piece of fun with Jethann was a one-time thing. I truly do not see why he'd send me an invitation to something like this." She felt more than heard Isabela moving around the room before she settled, leaning against a pillar. As she made no further attempt at conversation, Hawke picked up her quill and dipped it in her inkwell. She had a letter to write to Hubert concerning the medical treatment of the workers in the Bone Pit that she needed to finish, and how to phrase "get them a doctor a bit more often you worthless piece of Orlesian shit" to sound a bit more understandable and palatable to the snobby twat, had been eluding her for days. She didn't realize Isabela had moved again until she once again had her arms around her shoulders, soft breasts pushing against the back of her head. "But, lovely, you need to get out more. It's like all the fun in you just flew straight out the door when you got back from the Deep Roads." Before Hawke could utter a single word, Isabela covered her mouth with a hand and continued speaking. "I know why that is. But even your grumpy little brother wouldn't want you to be all business and no play forever and ever. You haven't even gotten properly drunk since then, and I hereby declare that you need to. And no, the Hanged Man isn't good enough. This will be JUST what you need!"

–

Later that evening in the Hanged Man, Merrill found Varric and Isabela in deep conversation in Varric's suite. "I'm telling you Rivaini, if she ever finds out..." Coughing, Merrill decided to step into the room. It's not as if she wasn't invited, and she wasn't going to stand outside until they were done whispering about the Creators knew what. "Varric, I want a cushion. A fluffy one. Do you have one?" Leaning back and blinking, Varric looked over towards his door. "Oh, Daisy, there you are! Cushion? What for?" Isabela let out an un-ladylike snort, and purred. "Maybe a bee stung her behind and she needs something soft to sit on?" Merrills head whipped back and forth between them, obviously confused. Bee? What were they talking about? "Don't worry your sunny little head about it Daisy," Varric said. "Isabela is just in one of her moods. Come, sit, I'll get you some mead and a cushion."


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke's head was spinning. How had she let Isabela convince her that this was a good idea? Fingering a bolt of linen cloth in the High Town market, she sighed to herself. "Lovely, that's not what you want. You want silk. Or lace. Or velvet...or all of them!" Isabela took her hand and pulled her over to another stand. After inspecting Hawke's wardrobe, Isabela had decided that none of her garments would be suitable for the ball. Hawke's protests that surely, her mother's satin dress would do just fine, had been promptly ignored. Apparently, it was so out of fashion that she shouldn't even consider wearing it unless she wanted to appear to be a jester or madwoman of some sort. "Look at this one, that color would look wonderful on you!" Isabela exclaimed, holding up a bolt of deep crimson silk. "That would look a lot better on you Isa, and you know it," Hawke replied, smiling. Holding the cloth up against herself and twirling around, Isabela smiled back. "Yes, I know. I just wanted to see if you had any fashion sense at all." Before Hawke could make any remark, Isabela went on to state that a woman who rarely wore anything but fighting leathers would not be an obvious fashion expert, and therefore she had to conduct these tests every now and then. Once again, Hawke wasn't paying much attention. She had turned to the crowd behind them, watching it part around a slim figure dressed in skintight leather breeches and armor, and wearing a huge two-handed greatsword on his back. "Fenris," she breathed.

–

Growling to himself, Fenris not so much walked as stalked through the High Town market, people scattering before him like leaves in the wind. "Pathetic," he muttered to himself. Normally, he'd not have come out until nightfall, but he needed a new sharpening stone, and the only place to get one of the quality and type he needed for Lethendralis was here in High Town. He had not counted on it being so packed, however, and despite of people moving out of his path, the going was slow. His ears perked up, however, as he heard a familiar voice calling out to him. "Fenris! Over here! You can't believe what we're doing!" Isabela was waving her hands, grinning like a maniac, while Hawke stood beside her, face turned slightly away, eyes downward. Sighing to himself, he walked over to the two women, nodding his head. "Isabela." Her eyes roamed over him from top to bottom, almost like he was one of the dresses being displayed at the stall they were standing by. Why did she always have to do that? It reminded him of the slave inspections in Tevinter, and he did not like it. Hawke was still looking at the ground though, and didn't say a word."Hawke," he said brusquely.

–

Shit, shit, shit! What on earth was he doing here? And by Andraste's tits, why had Isabela waved him over? She knew Hawke didn't get on well with the broody elf. Their differences in opinion about magic was too radical, and they always ended up arguing, either one of them stomping off, cursing the other. She was pulled out of her darkening thoughts by Isabela chuckling merrily. "We're getting Hawke a dress! Can you believe it? A flaming dress! And for the best reason ever!" Hawke glared at the pirate. If looks could kill, she would be dead thrice over. "Isa, no. Not another word. Or I'll call the entire thing off." Isabela pouted, hiked her breasts up, and tilted her head. "Right. I can't tell you then. But trust me, it's a wonderful occasion. Now, Hawke love, how about this one?" The dress she was holding up was cut scandalously low, a slit going almost up to the hip. Hawke didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Did the woman seriously think she was going to wear something like that? Even at the Rose, that would be considered sleazy. And the color! The entire thing was a silvery blue, with bits of white lace strategically placed here and there to accentuate the already overly daring cut. In the end, she decided upon laughing. "Isa, seriously, I don't have the bust nor the hips to wear something like that. Why can't you just focus on finding something that a lean, boyish little thing like me could pull off?" Isabela was about to answer, grinning from ear to ear, when Fenris coughed, the sound sounding distinctly like "petite". The laughter faded from Hawke's eyes and her mouth turned downwards as she asked: "What was that Fenris? Didn't quite hear you there." He at least had the good graces to look embarrassed. "Petite. You know. Slim, slender. Not boyish. You're very clearly a woman." His ears started reddening. "Oh, I definitely agree," Isabela chirped in. "You might not be curvy the way I'm curvy, but you're definitely feminine. In fact, very much so. I had a friend in Ferelden once that would love your body...preferably several times a night," she winked and grinned. Hawke shook her head. She really couldn't care less, or so she told herself. Turning towards the shopkeeper, she hailed him over and asked him to bring the tailor forth so she could decide upon cut and get the dress measured. The fabrics in her hands were a gorgeous black silk, black lace, and some black, soft gauze. She'd be damned if she'd wear something bright, she preferred dark colors anyway. "Oh no you!" Isabela nearly shouted. "If you get to wear such a dreary color, I'm getting to choose the cut." At Hawke's panicked look, she patted her shoulder, saying "Don't worry lovely one, I won't go overboard. I'm a pirate after all!"

–

Back in his mansion, Fenris took a deep swig of a bottle of wine. What on earth had that all been about? What would Hawke need a dress for? Even at home she wore leathers, though soft leather breeches and a linen shirt, not armor. He knew she was a noble now, but she had never, as far as he knew, he admitted to himself, gone to any parties or functions because of it. Was she going to now?

His musings were interrupted by a soft creak of hinges, and he immediately got out of his chair and grabbed for his sword. "Don't worry Broody, it's just me and the Rivaini," came Varric's voice from the shadows. Fenris relaxed a bit, and put down his sword. "Haven't you learned by now that you should knock?" he growled, sitting back down, bringing the bottle to his lips for another sip."We did knock handsome," said Isabela, coming forward to grab for the bottle, but missed. "Oh, I apologize then. I did not hear you," Fenris answered, draining the remains of the bottle, throwing it at the wall. Varric gave him a look out of the corner of his eye, and sighed. "Look, elf, we just needed to talk to you about something. Are you sober enough to actually remember this in the morning, or should we come back tomorrow?" He didn't answer for a while. He was definitely sober enough to remember, but was he drunk enough to bother listening? Varric went ahead anyway. "You know Hawke hasn't been the same since the Deep Roads." Frowning, Fenris reclined in his chair, running a hand over the armrest idly. "Well. We have a plan. And we're going to need your help. Interested?"

A plan? Leaning forward again, Fenris fixed the dwarf with an intense gaze. "And what will this plan of yours involve then dwarf? If you end up hurting her, I'm not going to forgive you." Varric chuckled. "That's why you should join in Broody, you can make sure everything goes as it should!"


	3. Chapter 3

Lying in the grass in the garden of her estate, Hawke tried to focus on the feel of the ground underneath her and the sight of the blue sky above her. Normally, this would cause her to feel relaxed, but not today. The Masquerade Ball was tonight, and she had yet to invite any of her companions. Well, except for Isabela. Considering all the help she had given Hawke with the preparations, and the fact that she would help dress her hair and do her make up later that evening, she was coming along, no question about that. To be honest, Hawke was really grateful that Isabela was going. She had no idea how to deal with the situation, or how to face Jethann on her own. Not that she was embarrassed or anything like that. Carnal pleasure and the market for it was not something she was unfamiliar with. But she was curious as to why he would send her an invitation. As far as she could remember, he was married, so he shouldn't have had any interest in her that wasn't strictly professional. And even if he did, why had he never contacted her before this? Shaking her head, Hawke went back to her room and put on her day to day clothes, slipping a few knives discreetly into hidden sheaths here and there before heading out. She needed to find two more people to bring along, as Isabela surely would disappear once she found a man or three to her tastes. And Hawke did not want to be left alone..at least not until she was properly drunk and couldn't care less who she was with.

–

After wandering around town aimlessly for a while, Hawke figured that the Hanged Man would be her first destination. Varric was known to frequent the Rose now and then, and would probably be a good choice for a companion for the night. In fact, he was the only alternative she could think of. Anders had mentioned earlier that Justice didn't let him get drunk anymore, and he was usually up to his eyes in patients at the clinic these days, so she hadn't even bothered to head over to Darktown to ask him. Merrill was out of the question. She thought the Rose sold flowers. Hawke had no wish to shatter that particular illusion of hers. Aveline? No. Just, no. It would be like bringing her mother or sister, and that would never happen. So that left the dwarf! The letter had said "up to three companions," that didn't mean she _had_ to bring three.

Walking up the steps in the back of the tavern, she headed for Varric's private quarters. As she got closer, she was greeted with muffled sniggers and a low growling. Clearing her throat loudly, Hawke stepped into the room only to have a pillowcase stuffed over her head. Too stunned to do anything for a moment, she felt someone smelling faintly of leather and wine brush past her out the door. Pulling the fabric off over her head, she blinked in confusion. "What on earth was that all about?" she stuttered, looking into the room. Varric just shrugs. "Oh, you know, sometimes people just feel like having a private life, even one such as me." Hawke blushes and looks down. She hadn't thought of that, she usually walked straight in, like she had just done. "Don't worry about it Hawke," the dwarf says and grins. "Come, sit, have a drink. Was there anything you wanted?" Shuffling over to the table, Hawke threw herself into a high backed chair and grabbed the closest mug of ale. After taking a long sip and an even longer breath, she sighs. "Do you have any plans for tonight Varric?"

–

Of course. He had plans. Why had she waited so long to ask? She should have known, Varric was almost always busy ferreting out rumors or gathering various information, he was far from at her beck and call. Still, she had Isabela..or so she thought. She had barely started on the stairs leading up to High Town when a sharp whistle from behind her stopped her in her tracks. She knew that whistle. Isabela. "Lovely one, wait up!" The busty pirate came sauntering up to her, looking distressed. Grabbing Hawke's arm, she pulled her to the side, letting a couple of nobles past them on the stairs. "Look, sweety, I'm really sorry, but I can't come tonight." Too stunned to speak, Hawke just looked at her friend in disbelief. "I know, I know, but something came up. An old friend of mine turned up at the docks and asked for me. I owe him a favor. A big one. And he's called it in. I'm so sorry!" Fidgeting, her fingers running over her belt buckle, Hawke stuttered out something along the lines of "whah...how...but I...how will I..." Grinning weakly, Isabela patted her cheek. "I'll still be able to do your hair and such as promised, but I'll have to leave soon after. Did you get anyone else to come along?" Shaking her head, Hawke held her breath. She had actually started to look forward to the evening. Getting drunk, laughing, relaxing, enjoying herself for once. And now it was all falling apart. She could feel tears welling up, and shook herself. "I guess I'll just head over to the Rose and cancel then," she said, trying not to let her voice tremble. "What?" Isabela looked shocked. "You can't just do that! You _need _this lovely one. Surely you have more friends than just me," she laughed. Waving her hands weakly, Hawke looked up at the sky. "I've asked everyone. Or, nearly everyone. This is the Rose we're talking about Isa, I can't bring Merrill or Aveline. And Anders is probably way too busy. Varric had plans, so that leaves no one." Raising her perfectly plucked brows, Isabela leaned towards Hawke. "You've forgotten one. Fenris. I know, for a fact, that he has no plans. He never has any anyhow. Why don't you ask him?" Hawke almost fell down the steps. "Fenris? Are you serious? You know we don't get along Isa, how on earth am I going to get him to go to the Rose with me? For something like that?" Steadying her friend by throwing an arm around her waist, Isabela just smiled. "Try. You never know, he might just come with you. No matter your differences, he does care for you."

–

The knock on the battered door reverberated through the mansion. She had been outside for at least half an hour, almost turning away three times. "Stop shaking you silly bitch," Hawke scolded herself. Why did Fenris have to be so hard for her to deal with? Normally, she wouldn't bat an eye at talking to anyone, even people that despised mages. After all, what did she care what they thought of her? She knew her own worth, her strengths and her weaknesses. No one could change that, and so their opinions would not matter to her. But for some reason, his did, and she couldn't – **wouldn't** – admit to herself the reason why. Sure, he was the most gorgeous example of a male elf she had ever seen. Sure, his voice made her weak in the knees, making her feel like she was swimming in warm honey. And the lyrium...it almost physically drew her to him, it felt so entrancing. She had never touched him on purpose, but the few accidental brushes against him had turned her bones to jelly, sending a spark through her entire body.

All this, of course, was purely circumstances beyond her control. Facts of life. Things that just happened. She was in no way infatuated with the elf. Not possible. Just, no.

"Hawke, what are you rambling on about?" That silky, deep voice seemed to surround her, making her jump. She hadn't noticed the door opening. Faintly, she wondered how long he'd been standing there. And how much of her wayward thoughts she had actually spoken aloud. Absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she looked up at the sky. "How long have you been standing there? I mean," she blushed. "What did I say?" He made a sound halfway between a grunt and a snort, and she thought she saw his lips curl slightly. "Obviously something was not possible, that is all I could make out." Oh yes. His voice had a slight burr to it, like he was trying not to chuckle. He found this funny, that was just great. Clearing her throat, Hawke decided that it would be best to jump in head first. No tippy-toeing into this mess. "Fenris, I was wondering...do you have anything planned for tonight?" He came slightly closer, she could smell leather, wine, lyrium, the faint scent that was purely masculine and _him_. "You see, I'm going to a...a masquerade ball. At the Rose. Isa was supposed to come with me, but she had to cancel. I wouldn't normally intrude, but I do not wish to go there on my own, and you did say I could call on you if I needed you." Blushing deeper, she took a short breath. "And, well, I'm calling. On you that is. To escort me. I know it's not your usual type of...job...but I would appreciate it if you came along."

There. She'd said it. Now, if he would only answer. She could feel his eyes on her, intense gaze making her face and body feel on fire.

–

She still had her face to the sky. Her face was tinged with a pinky red across the cheekbones and up her ears. Her breathing short and nervous. He kept staring at her, however, willing her to meet his gaze. Reluctantly, she did so, turning those brilliant silvery blue eyes towards him. He brought a hand up to her cheek, barely touching the smooth skin there.

"I'll go."


	4. Chapter 4

**I have another small chapter ready to go, but I'm sorta stuck at where to go next with it. Two or three ideas flying about in my head, but none of them seems good enough to me. So updates are a bit slow, sorry about that.**

**Thanks for all the faves and reviews 3 Means a lot to me!**

Back at the Hawke estate, Isabela was lounging on a few pillows thrown from a couch in the library. Hawke still wasn't back, she should have been here almost an hour ago to start the preparations for the night. "Did that silly woman turn into an airhead and float away I wonder?" Isabela growled just as Bodahn stuck his head in the door to announce that Hawke had returned. A few minutes later, a loud crash sounded from the entrance hall, and Isabela jerked up. What on Thedas could that be? Grabbing the bottle of wine she'd been drinking from, she decided to go investigate.

The sight that met her in the hallway made her double up laughing. Hawke was on the ground with a very large mabari on top of her, and on the top of the mabari throned a dwarf. After a lot of swearing and scuffling, Hawke sat up and brushed her hands on her leggings. "Sandal, I know I said you could ride Roar, but please, stop charging me every time I get in the damn door!" The boy only grinned, and off he and his mount went, barking and shouting. "I want some pie!" was the last thing Isabela heard before a door closed further inside the estate.

Getting on her feet, Hawke patted her hair and wiped some drool from her chin, then turned towards the pirate. "So..I should get in the tub, shouldn't I?" Isabela chuckled and gave her a slow wink. "Oh yes lovely, you should. And I'm coming with you!"

–

Around an hour later, Isabela pinned a final black rose to Hawke's now loosely curled hair and stepped back to admire her work. She concluded that this time she had out-done herself. Hawke's skin was softly glowing, eyes lined with the slightest of shimmery shadow. Her lips were moist and a warm, coral color. The plain silver rings in her ears had been exchanged for silver and amethyst earrings, with a matching ring and bracelet. The jewels had been among the treasure they had found in the dwarven thaigh in the Deep Roads, and Isabela had insisted that Hawke keep them for herself. They matched her eyes perfectly.

The dress had turned out beautifully. A narrow neckline, plunging down to right above her navel, the skirt reaching the knees in the front and the floor in the back. All made in the softest, black silk. Black lace stockings clothed her slim legs, and on her feet were some high heeled black leather boots, polished until they shone. It was unique, and very Hawke. Of course, there were also strategically placed slits here and there where she could slip some daggers out from beneath the dress, Hawke never went anywhere unarmed.

"I'm gonna go grab a glass of wine lovely one, do you want one?" Isabela purred. Radient as Hawke looked, she was tense and could need a little something to relax her. "Sure Isa, white for me please, just have Bodahn fetch some up from the cellars," Hawke said with a wry smile. "Tell him to bring the entire bottle, I'm gonna need it if I'm to be able to face Fenris without feeling the need to put on my armor!" Giggling, Isa traipsed out of the room, heading for the servants quarters.

–

Sighing to herself, Hawke turned slowly in front of the mirror. The dress was daring. But it would be unusual enough to seem interesting instead of just sleazy, or so she kept telling herself. She liked it though, it was easy to move in, and showed off her body in the best possible way. She might not be the curviest woman, but she had a tiny waist, small but firm breasts and long, silky legs. She was a bit uncomfortable with the hair though. Isabela had insisted on leaving the majority of it down, and she had curled it. Normally, Hawke would tie it up in a tight tail, or twist it into a bun. Now though, a bit of it was pinned up in the back, and laced into it all was a few silk ribbons and small, black roses. She had to admit, though, the effect was stunning. She looked like a woman, soft and approachable. A sharp contrast to her tight leathers and crackling magic.

She had been uncertain of what oils and perfumes she was going to put in her bathwater. She never wore perfume directly on her body or clothes, preferring to soak in scented water and let that subtly seep into her pores. She had gone for something warm and slightly sweet. The oils had been imported from Antiva, and she wasn't sure of the exact ingredients, but there was something reminiscent of cherries in it.

What would Fenris think though? He had never seen her in anything but her armor. Would he find her silly? Would he laugh? She didn't think he would, but she could never be sure when it came to that elf. His moods were mercurial, and it was hard to place what would set them off at the best of times. Pushing her breasts up slightly higher in the lacy breast band she was wearing, she sat down carefully in front of the fire, awaiting Isabela and the wine.

–

Humming lightly to herself while heading back to Hawke's room, Isabela paused to take a swig of her bottle of excellent Rivaini rosé. Though she didn't want to admit it, she cared more for Hawke's well being than she had ever thought she would, and after losing her brother in the Deep Roads, Hawke was in desperate need of having something good happen to her. While "good" was a very much subjective thing, getting drunk and having an awesome night filled with debauchery and good looking people was something most people would go for, Hawke included. So when she had heard that the Rose was setting up a masquerade, she had made sure that an invitation was sent along to the Amell estate. The proprietor of the Rose had been informed that everything Hawke could desire of drink and other pleasures would be paid for by Varric, and a private suite had been reserved should she choose to spend the night there.

She had thought getting Fenris in on the plan would be harder than it actually had been. Sure, she knew that the handsome elf was attracted to Hawke despite her being a mage, but had not expected him to agree to going to something as tawdry as a whorehouse masquerade just to cheer her up. Perhaps there was more there than just sexual attraction..though she couldn't tell for sure.

"Isabela?" a voice echoed from below, making her jump. Peering over the stair railings, what she saw made her lips curl into a sultry smile. Fenris. Just in time. Oh yes, this would do nicely!


	5. Chapter 5

Tapping her foot absentmindedly, Hawke closed her eyes for a moment. Isabela was taking longer than usual to get the wine. "Perhaps she decided to taste a few different ones," Hawke thought to herself. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Standing up, she walked over to her bedside table, grabbing the cup that she always kept next to the bed. Conjuring up ice, she then proceeded to melt it before rapidly cooling it a bit again. Ice water a la mage, one of the more domestic practicalities of being able to channel the forces of nature. As she returned to the fire, she heard the door opening and turned around.

The sight that met her made her drop the cup she was holding, water pooling at her feet as she stared slack-jawed at the person entering her room. "Fenris," she breathed. What startled her the most, she would later realize, was not the fact that it was him and not Isabela standing there with two bottles of wine and crystal glasses. No, it was the fact that, instead of being dressed in his customary spiky armor, he was wearing soft, black leather breeches with a matching silk shirt. It was delicately trimmed with silver thread around the sleeves, the pattern curling up matching the design of the lyrium tattoos beneath. The pants were embossed with a similar silver pattern down the sides, disappearing into knee-high black boots polished to a shine. It contrasted beautifully with his silvery white hair, and made his green eyes stand out like gemstones set amidst dusky skin. "You look..." was as far as she got before he coughed and looked beyond her into the fire. "I met Isabela in the main hall. She said she was running late and asked me to take this up here. Can I come in?" Blushing, Hawke bent down to pick up the cup she had dropped, and discreetly dried the wet spot on the carpet with a careful application of heat. "Of course, come, we can sit by the fire. I'd rather not have to clean my desk if that's ok with you."

Maker. Did she even know what she was doing to him, bending down in that dress? She was lithe, cat-like, and simply bent from the waist, giving him a good view of her cleavage as she did so. Though, he was rather happy it was her front she was displaying. Had she bent over like that with her back towards him...no, he'd rather not think of that, not now. The breeches he was wearing were as tight as any he had ever worn, and would most definitely reveal his appreciation for that particular vision. Not that the sight of the slight swell of her breasts and slight glimpse of rosy nipples didn't have him thinking about things like a cold bath or the abomination ranting in order to keep his body under control.

"That dress..it's from the fabrics you bought at the market?" he asked carefully. She paused in the act of arranging her legs as she sat down to glance up at him nervously. "Ehm, yes, as a matter of fact it is. Is it...does it not suit me?" He almost laughed out loud. Not suit her? If he was to be perfectly honest with himself, he preferred seeing her dressed in black. It contrasted sharply with her smooth, pale skin, setting off her mercurial silvery blue eyes perfectly. "It looks lovely Hawke," he murmured as he walked over, sitting himself down next to her. Close enough to touch her if he wished, yet far enough away to give them both the space and air they seemed to need for now.

–

Hawke was lost for words. Though it didn't happen very often, she hated the times it did, and for some reason, being near the Tevinter elf tended to empty her brain. Consequently, the only thing she managed to stutter out when he didn't seem to be saying anything was "Wine?" He started slightly, then handed her a glass and the bottle of Orlesian white. Though not overly fond of wine, this one suited her palate. Light, slightly dry, and best served cold. And the alcohol in it was rather low, which meant she could have more than just a few glasses and still not get drunk in any substantial way. A subtle push of force magic had the cork popping open, a trickle of frost chilled it, and she poured herself a glass, watching the light yellow color deepening against the fire in front of her.

"I really appreciate you coming along Fenris," Hawke said softly after a few sips. He glanced over at her before using his phasing powers to open his own bottle, carefully pouring a glass of his own. "At first, I wasn't even intending to go, but Isa made such a good case for it. And then I started to look forward to it as well, so...I must admit I would have been rather sad if I ended up not going after all." Hawke poured herself another glass, falling silent once again. She hoped she wasn't sounding too selfish when trying to thank him, as she knew she could come off that way. Fenris cleared his throat, looking at the ceiling. "I wouldn't have let you not go Hawke. You need it, that much is apparent to all your friends, me included." She looked over at him, trying not to stare in disbelief. Had he just included himself in her group of friends? She had always heard him refer to himself as an acquaintance, or working companion, and she discovered she was rather pleased that he actually thought of himself as more than that. "I must admit, it's not something I would have gone to of my own volition, but...you called upon me. And, as promised, I answered." She dropped her gaze before he could notice her now disappointed stare. Was that all it was then? Him fulfilling what he thought was his duty to her? "Fenris..you don't have any obligation to come along you know. If you really don't want to, you don't have to. You've already paid off any debt you incurred when I helped you with those slavers when we first met. I don't want you to think that you have to..." His head snapped down, and he scowled at her, snorting shortly. "That is not what I meant Hawke, I apologize." He shook his head, then looked her straight in the eye. "I am not very good at expressing personal feelings, and I'm aware that makes me come off as very formal. What I meant...what I wanted to say...You said you needed me tonight. And that made me feel good. I might not always show it, but I appreciate you and your company, and I am honored that you asked me to come along."

–

He was hoping she didn't notice the way his ears were burning. He had not intended to be so forward, but it seemed she had misunderstood what he had said previously, and it had upset her. But as he saw a small smile spread on her face and her eyes light up, he thought it had been worth the embarrassment. Though Hawke smiled a lot, he hadn't seen this type of smile before. One that could only be described as bashfully pleased. Her eyes lowered, a small blush creeping across her cheekbones, lips twitching upwards as if she was fighting a grin. It was beautiful.

–

They spent the next half hour silently watching the fire, sipping their wine, until Bodahn knocked on the door and announced that the carriage had rolled up outside.

"Well. Here we go then!" Hawke whispered to herself, risking a glance and a small smile in Fenris' direction. He put his hand on the small of her back, urging her gently forward. "Yes, here we go."


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry there haven't been any updates lately. I went into hospital for a bit, and then on vacation, and in the meantime I lost sight of where I wanted to take the story. Hopefully I'll regain my inspiration and get the story back on track soon.**

**3 CaralinaWinterheart**

After she left Hawke's estate, she hurried down to the Hanged Man. Varric wanted an update, of that she was sure! Crashing through the door, she made her way up to the suite in the back, calling for a bottle of whiskey as she passed Nora.

«Rivaini, there you are! How'd it go?» Varric came out of the sleeping section of his suite, setting a tankard of ale down on the table as Isabela dropped onto a chair. Grinning, she beckoned him closer. «Oh, better than we ever thought it would...!»


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry for the update taking so long. It's been hard finding the inspiration to continue this, but I think I'm finally getting back on track. **

**(Nothing sexual yet I'm afraid, but rewards comes for those who wait!)**

"Madame Lusine has really outdone herself tonight," Hawke whispered to herself as she entered the Blooming Rose, Fenris half a step behind her. Pausing, she half turned towards him and leaned close. "Are you really sure you want to do this? We can turn around right now if you'd rather..." She trailed off as she became aware of the warmth seemingly radiating off of him. She breathed deeply, noting that the smell of leather wasn't as sharp, though it smelled like his clothes had been laundred with...mint? The mix was intoxicating, she almost leaned in closer to sniff him. Fenris smiled slightly. "No, we're here. And I already told you, I'm honored that you asked me along. Come, let's not linger in the doorway."

Moving further into the Rose, Hawke once again became captivated by the decorations. The walls were lined with different masks, and the lighting was low and mellow. A small orchestra was playing on the landing of the second floor, and the main floor had been cleared of all furniture to make room for dancing. All in all, the effect was quite the nice mix of classical and intimate. And then there were the people moving about, some in classical ball gowns and simple masks, other in more elaborate costumes depicting everything from animals to monsters. The employees were easily distinguishable from the guest, all being clothed in silk sheer enough to see through in similar cuts, with either gold or silver half-masks covering the upper portion of their faces. Madame Lusine herself was behind the bar in a gold and silver gown, maskless.

"I'll go get us something to drink, is there anything particular you'd like Hawke?" Fenris murmured close to her ear. Inhaling deeply, Hawke looked up at him and smiled. "Champagne would be lovely I think." He nodded and walked off, heads turning after him as he passed. He did make a striking figure in those clothes, and the tight fit of the leather pants barely left anything to the imagination. Following him with her eyes until the throng of people blocked her view, Hawke sighed. She still didn't understand what had caused the sudden change of behaviour in him after she invited him to the masquerade. He almost seemed like a different person – calm, protective, caring, perhaps even interested in her in a way that wasn't his normal vigilance around mages. Normally, every job she brought him along for ended in an argument between the two, and though she couldn't deny that it made her heart race when they'd be up in each others faces screaming, this calm feeling of closeness she had experienced tonight made her feel even more giddy. Fanning herself with her hand, she took another deep breath and looked about the room while she waited for him to come back, searching for familiar faces.

"Ah, Lady Hawke, I see you got my invitation!" Hawke spun around, coming face to face with a smiling elf in a silver mask. Jethann. He bowed, bringing her hand to his lips, placing a small kiss upon it. "I must say, you look stunning. However, did you not bring a mask? This is, after all, a masquerade!" Blushing, Hawke took her hand back, trying not to stare downwards. The tight breeches he was wearing concealed close to nothing, being only slightly more opaque in the groin area. "I'm afraid I didn't have the time to have one made that suited the dress," she said with a wistful smile. "I did send Isabela out to look for one, but she said she couldn't find anything appropriate." Jethann nodded to himself, glancing over at Madame Lusine. Moving closer, circling an arm around her waist, he gave her a sly smile. "Don't worry about that sweetheart, I'll find one for you, I'm sure. Does your...partner...have one of his own, or shall I find one for him as well?" Her eyes widening, Hawke shook her head. She hadn't thought about that at all, his outfit had so radically taken all her interest. Him having a mask or not had not even crossed her mind. "Ah, well, I'm sure I can find one that will suit him." Jethann smirked and walked away, carefully letting his hand trail off her waist and down her thigh as he passed her and walked off. Looking back over his shoulder, he pointed at the spot she was standing. "Don't move sweetheart, I'll be back in but a few moments."


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so sorry for the wait. I had a lot happen after I posted the last chapter, and consequently my muse dissapeared. You know how it is. I didn't want to «just finish» the story either. When I write something, I wish to write well. Pushing out some half assed crap because I'm concerned about people being angry with be for not posting is not something I do. **

**There will probably be a few more chapters before we get to the «naughty bits» here, but I do so dislike rushing things. I hope you'll bear with me ;)**

**~Cara**

As he made his way to the bar to get their drinks, Fenris passed by a familiar face. Jethann, the elf Hawke had once...had business with here. Growling lightly, he pushed past the man, earning a smirk and a low whistle in his direction. Looking back over his shoulder, he scowled. What had that been all about? The push of people soon forced him to keep moving towards the bar, however, and the elven whore was lost to the crowds. What was it Hawke had said she wanted again? Sighing, he raised his arm to catch the attention of the barkeep. "A glass of champagne please, and a bottle of red wine."

–

Failing to find any familiar faces that she actually wanted to say hello to, Hawke silently waited for the return of either Fenris or Jethann. She was growing more nervous by the second, her fingers bunching the fabric of her dress around her hips as she distractedly plucked at it. "How did I ever think this was a good idea," she mused to herself. She didn't have time to follow that train of thought, however, as a faint scent of leather and lyrium assaulted her senses. Looking up, she saw Fenris standing next to her, a bottle of wine in one hand, and a glass of champagne in the other. He gave another one of his small, secretive smirks and handed her the glass. Was it just her imagination, or did his fingers linger for longer than neccesary as she took the glass from him? Shaking her head slightly, Hawke let loose an internal laugh. No, she was just imagining things.

"I saw your...friend...on my way to the bar," Fenris said after a slight cough, discreetly opening his bottle of wine. Hawke frowned in a momentary confusion, before realizing who he meant. "Oh, Jethann you mean. Yes, he was the one that sent me the invitation to the masquerade." Taking a careful sip of the champagne, she was pleased to note that it wasn't as strong or sour as she had been afraid of. Light and bubbly, it would go down smoothly. After another sip, she glanced up at Fenris, noting the scowl on his face. As he became aware of her eyes watching him, he coughed again and took a swallow of wine straight from the bottle. "Well, I guess that was nice of him then," he murmured, looking away. A realization hit Hawke then. Fenris seemed uncomfortable when mentioning the other elf, almost as if...no. It couldn't be, could it? Fenris had no reason to be jealous, that would imply that he cared for her on a level she wasn't aware that he was capable of. Perhaps he was uncomfortable due to the knowledge of what had happened between her and the whore though. Fenris didn't seem like the type of person to flaunt sexual experiences, or being comfortable with others doing the same. Maker knows he had been awkward around Isabela until he had gotten used to the fact that she wouldn't stop her sexual references in any near or far future and just managed to ignore her.

She was about to ask him straight out if the thought of what she had done with the elven whore previously bothered him when said elf returned. "My dear lady, as promised, masks suitable for you and your...companion," Jethann exclaimed with a sly wink, proffering her a tray upon which two simple masks lay. Both black, with silver scrolling on the edges and around the eyes, one slighly larger than the other. Otherwise, they were identical. "Perhaps a bit plain, but anything more flamboyant would just detract from the whole you must understand." Grabbing for the smaller of the masks, Jethann obviously intended to hand it to Hawke, stepping closer to her simultaneously. Before he could reach it though, a tanned hand lined with lyrium snatched the mask up. "Here Hawke, let me," Fenris practically growled, staring coldly at the other man. Jethann raised his eyebrows, a slight smile on his face, gaze steady as he kept his eyes on Hawke. "Well well, it doesn't just bite, it barks as well?" he said while chuckling. Hawke quickly stepped in between the two males as Fenris issued what could only be called a growl low in his throat. Raising her hands towards him, she made a small sound of disapproval while smiling nervously. Fortunately, this was enough to make Fenris huff and turn his back while taking another sip of wine from his bottle. Turning to Jethann, she could see him grinning like the cat that just caught the canary. Hawke leaned towards him, whispering. "Could you...not do that? He's touchy when it comes to comments like that, and I can't say I blame him. He's an elf, a man, not a wolf. You'd do well to remember that!" Smile slipping a bit, Jethann bowed his head towards her. "As you wish Lady Hawke." Then his smile returned in full, and he stepped even closer to her, his face inches from hers. "But do come find me later, will you? I have such good memories of our last meeting, reliving them would be...pleasurable." He winked, then turned away, making sure to sway his hips and flex his fingers suggestively while walking towards one of the corner tables.

Taking a deep breath, Hawke turned back towards Fenris, hoping that he wouldn't be in too foul of a mood after that little episode. While she wanted to enjoy herself tonight, she also wanted him to be as comfortable as he could be.

He was still standing with his back towards her, his stance tense, wine bottle gripped hard enough to make his knuckles strain. She reached out a hand, wanting to stroke his shoulder, but stopped herself short of doing so. Perhaps touch wouldn't be the smartest thing right now. "Fenris?" she asked softly. "Are you all right?"

–

At the sound of Hawke's voice softly inquiring if he was all right, Fenris let out a deep sigh. Isabela had warned him that despite Jethann having invited Hawke on her and Varric's behalf, the other elf was still interested in Hawke on a personal level. Apparently, he had become somewhat taken with her. This was fairly obvious in the way he looked at her, yet Fenris had not expected the other man to be quite so aggressive. Jethann had been told to be provocative, true, but certainly not to the extent of verbally attacking him like that. Still, he couldn't let the whore's comment get to him. That would ruin the night for Hawke, and it was for her well being that this was all happening. Taking another deep breath, he smoothed his face, repressing the anger he felt, and as he turned around, he looked into Hawke's concerned eyes and gave a slight smirk. "Don't worry Hawke. His words mean nothing. Thank you for your concern." Looking around, he spotted a small table over by the stairs. It seemed to be unoccupied, and Hawke looked as if she was in need of sitting down for a moment to get her bearings. She was fiddling with her dress, looking nervous. Taking hold of one of her flickering fingers, he gently dragged her along with him, heading towards the table. "Come. Let us sit for a moment. I am not used to these boots."

–

Hawke didn't know what to say as she felt herself being half led, half pulled towards a table over by the stairs. "He's touching me," she thought. "And of his own free will. Just a few fingers, but he's actually touching me!" It didn't last long however. They reached their destination, and while pondering the feeling of emptiness she felt as he had let her fingers slip from his, she became vaguely aware that he was holding the back of a chair, waiting for her to sit so he could push it in for her. Placing her glass on the table, she gently sat down, trying to make sense of it all. It was just too unreal, this night. There had been no screaming, no yelling. No angry remarks flying between the two. Just a gentle companionship, and a spark of...something...when they came close enough to each other.

She noted that he seated himself across from her, observing the other guests as they moved about the room. He was sipping from his bottle absentmindedly, and he looked gorgeous. There was something about his almost carefree demeanor that made her all warm inside, and she smiled to herself before turning her head towards the crowds to look about once again.

She was snapped back to attention, however, when she heard a voice from the landing above them.

"Isabela?"


End file.
